Bandana Beginnings

Those who follow Jesus are supposed to grow more unselfish the longer they know Him. I think I’m more selfish than I want to admit. How would you rate yourself on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being “a lot like Jesus”?

They came from tribal villages where people live in homes made of bamboo and the wealthiest built of cinder blocks. Many of their feet showed signs of standing submerged, with toes gripping slippery ground while they stuck plugs of rice plants into the ground. I’m pretty sure they never had a pedicure. Most don’t own Bible, and only a minority can read anyway. They came in trucks and on scooters and on foot from places where words like “women’s conference” are foreign and unknown and weird. They came to the first ever tribal “women’s conference” to hear how to live trusting in the one true God, since they turned away from what they call “darkness” filled with animism and idols. We sang and hugged and acted out women of the Bible and ate rice and held hands and went to a market. And more. So much more. Then it was time for gifts.

Women of our church who couldn’t go with us sent along enough bags to give a gift to every one of the 85 tribal women. In our hotel room with mattresses and hot water, we made gift bags with soap and a comb and candy and a notepad and a scarf and more, but we ran low on the number of scarves. I had a really cool raspberry bandana I brought with me, and, honestly, I didn’t want to give it away, but we needed it. I thought I would buy myself a new one when I got home.

 

On the last night of the “women’s conference,” we gave our gift bags; they were embraced and cherished. Scarves were discovered, lip balm was tried, and delight was uttered. And then they called us to the front of the room to line up, so they could come to us. They came one by one, bringing gifts. They brought things they had made and things they found that day at the market far from their villages. It was a tradition repeated in each village where we ministered. With each gift they draped on us, they adorned us with their love.

And then she came and stood in front of me. I don’t remember which one she was; her face has been lost in the overwhelming realization that I am more selfish than I should be by now. But I remember what she did. She stood in front of me and paused, and it felt like we were the only 2 in the room. She smiled and put her hands behind her neck to unclasp the silver and turquoise necklace she wore; it was beautiful and not like the simple seeds most of their jewelery was made of. It was a treasure, and I almost told her, “no,” until the Lord whispered to me that it gives great joy to bestow a gift on our beloved. He knows. I listened. She reached up, because she was a lot shorter than I am, and she put her own treasure around my neck. Maybe her only treasure. A great sacrifice. A love gift. And she smiled a huge smile and hugged me. When there’s little sacrifice, there’s little joy.

 

There’s joy in giving what we hold dear. Jesus knows that it’s a joy to bestow a treasure on those we love. I’m so glad He’s patient while I become more like Him, because it takes a while, and I have a long way to go. Maybe unselfishness starts small, with something like a raspberry bandana.

What’s your bandana?